


My Blood is Cold

by DealingDearie



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 00:30:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DealingDearie/pseuds/DealingDearie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Loki lies dying, he thinks about all of the people in his life, including an imaginary Sigyn and a rag tag group of superheroes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Haunt (Odin)

I have an honest belief that I loved you once. Maybe it was so long ago that such an imprint on my memory stays even if I have tossed it away, but there was a time when the hole in my heart was nonexistent, a time when I was young and innocent and completely bereft of these feelings I harbor now.

I can barely remember you, you know.

Thor's brightness was too much for my eyes and I suppose my dullness never could reach your own. You were always so proud of him, so happy that he could exceed your high expectations. Or were they only high for me? Did you just simply know that he would be your golden sun, the beloved prince, and that I would be the forgotten moon whose light was no brighter than the one in your eye if you could look upon me now. I have no doubt that you will forget me. You never could remember my presence so why should you turn a new leaf? It is that fact that hardened my heart on that fateful day, that moment in time where the silence broke me. I doubt you were even aware of how easily I could snap, of how quickly I could fall apart before you, and I doubt that you would even care if you had been. You never gave me approval, never offered me your pride even when I did something right, and I hardly think it was a coincidence.

The son that could never be yours, no matter what kind of light you shed on him, was a monster. You knew well how deep his treacherous blood ran, and yet you kept him ignorant of his nature. Maybe if you had been honest with him, that boy you saw as a creature of destruction, maybe then you could have helped him to quell the sickness inside him. But what did you do? You ignored him, shunned him in the most modest of manners, and you poured your love into a boy whose own heart was as yours once was, when you were young. He was wild and reckless and he didn't think before he spoke. He was a rash child and I was his polar opposite. I was thoughtful and careful and precise.

I could have been the greatest king in history, but who did you choose? Your precious son. I had of course expected it, but it stung deep down inside of my heart. It stung so much that the wound grew cold, numb, even, and I grew to ignore to pinprick of feeling that assaulted me whenever you chose Thor over me. I can so easily call on my memories now and I find it most ironic that I see your face first. I could have had, should have had, a fond place for you, a special spot in my heart reserved for my father, but it has faded. It has vanished into the nothing, and perhaps that nothing is the void deep within me, the void that was created by the attention you never gave me.

You ripped a hole so far down in my soul that I fear I will get sucked into its dark abyss. And I should laugh now, since I'm so far gone that it doesn't matter, because that hole could very easily have been filled, filled with love and pride, but was I ever the receiver of such gifts? Of course not. It would have only taken a smile, a meaningful glance in my direction, for me to smile back, for my heart to swell with glee, but it only shrank. I wish I could show Thor how lucky he was, how good of a life fate gave him, because he could have been in my place, could have been broken and alone and sad. I would have been the golden child, then, but I dare not spend too much time on the thought.

It unnerves me to think of it in such a way, to think of it as a chance I might have had, because I never had a chance. You'll say that I had a choice, that I could have followed my brother, that I could have walked the glorious path to heaven, but we all know of heaven, do we not? Hell is the place we dare not speak of, the realm of death we hope to avoid, and I was ever the curious one. I chose the path of no return the moment I let go of my life, a life that was such a secure thing, such an assured whisper in the dark. To have you deny me, to secretly despise me, was the crack in our windshield. To find out that it was all a lie, to discover that nothing was right, that my own brother hated my kind, was the bump in the road.

 I might say that the moment I fell was the shatter, the break, but truly it is now, when I am leaving too quickly, when Thor is sobbing too loudly, when you are nowhere but in my head, in my thoughts and in my breaths. You were always there with me and to be truthful, I loved it. Your aged voice, wise and tainted by time, was the lullaby that put me to sleep, your imagined love the drug that kept me there. I know not where I'll go, for I doubt anything is concrete with how my mind is toiling, but I do know that none will mourn because the action of grief runs on the love that has been taken…and there was no love for me. When Thor has children, when his babies of such ungodly unison spring up like daisies into the world, I ask of you one single request.

I don't know if you'll allow me the relief of knowing you followed it through, but please think about it. I beg of you, above all else, love them completely and equally, love them so much it makes you cry, hug them until they have bruises, tell them stories until your tongue falls off, and shower them with every one of your kindnesses that I was never able to see. Because I do love Thor, he is and always was my dearest brother, and though we have strayed and I am not the same, not joyful or happy or anything like I was, the love between us two, father and son, shall always be a string that can stand the sharpness of any blade.

I will look upon you if I can, to make sure that you're doing the right thing with them and even treating Thor's mortal woman with an ounce of respect, because I do not wish this on another.

I do not look forward to witnessing a child go mad, to watching as they starve from how little love you give them, and if that does happen, if you are responsible for yet again another demise, I will haunt your dreams and kill your spirit, take over your mind and drive you insane, and you will never, ever be rid of me, even in death, and my words will echo deep inside of you until the jagged edges of my voice cut you open, always whispering with such sorrow; _Why didn't you love me?_


	2. Fuel (Thor)

Ever more frequently I've begun to cry.

I know that it is not a warrior's way but I do not regret the wetness on my face. I don't mind the stains they leave, though they shouldn't even leave stains. Perhaps they are tainted, just like my blood.

Those marks on the floor are the only signs of life, the only things telling the world that I was here. The destruction of Manhattan, the wastes of Jotunheim, even the scars on your heart, that can all be repaired, fixed up so that it was never there at all, but the sorrow of my soul can never be mended. As is the way of things, you were always there to outshine even the brightest of suns, and the world loved you for it. I was your ever present shadow, and I did not mind it as much as I should have. Your glory was too unquestionable, your shine too bright, for me to ever doubt my place behind you. Always a step behind. We were opposites at birth, and we still are, but something has changed within us both.

I doubt the feeling of elation that comes over me now. Maybe we have grown too far from one another, and yet so close that your inexplicable joy has rubbed off on me. Or maybe my sanity is finally gone. Yes, I like that explanation much better than the slim chance of my change of heart. I have no heart, haven't you heard? It has dissipated like smoke in the wind, and yet I see no ashes from the fire. They, too, have gone far from me, far from this world of loneliness in my mind, too far for me to ever retrieve them.

If I ever wanted to, that is. Again, I find myself straying from the task at hand, spending too much time in the past and not enough of it in the present. I'll ask you, though, if you've ever felt this way, like the very essence of your soul is being ripped from you. Maybe you'll tell me that you've never felt it, that you've never looked upon something with such sorrow that you cry yourself to sleep, or maybe you'll nod, say that it is a horrible feeling and that you forgive me for all the wrong I've done.

That might work, if we were still boys, still young adolescent dreamers with the world far ahead of us. We are not those same boys, and I do hope you know that. I am not that same boy you were raised beside, no, he's dead and buried, along with the rest of my heart. I cannot help the nostalgia that coils around me, like it has found a home at long last, at the thought of you as you were so long ago. Such a happy child. Was I happy once? Or did you even notice me?

Did you not see the anguish deep within me, the hurt and anger of my soul? I cannot believe you if you say that you did, because I was so good at hiding, such a master at blending in with the shadows so you could illuminate my world. And illuminate you did. You were my sun, and I your moon. My life was tethered to yours with such thick strings, and yet they were unraveling before our very eyes. You grew up so fast, I recall. Your life was such a nice thing, such a comfort to have, and what was my life?

A bed of such sharp nails that I slept on the floor, surrounded by those whispers. And then we were men, men who could wait no longer to be gone, to be rid of the tightly bonded life of our childhood. I had long ago severed those chords, though. You never did take notice, even then, and your naivety bothers me still. Perhaps it was that very thing, your blessed ignorance, that made me learn to hate you. I loathed the thought of you, the mention of your oh very glorious name, and it left a sour taste in my mouth.

But how I loved you. Such turmoil does nothing to aid one's psyche, so naturally I was confused. I remember one night, one dark, horrible night, when my thoughts always led to the same single word. Odin. You gained his love so easily, like it was as natural as breathing, and it should have been the same way for me, but we both know deep down that it was nothing shy of impossible. He never even smiled at me. Perhaps my current predicament has made me delirious, but by the gods how it hurt to know that I was not loved, like a pain so deep it ruins your blood and sucks the life from you. And oh how my blood is ruined. It is pooling around me in thick black puddles and you are clutching me to your chest like you could save me, but we both know how this will end.

You will come out of this victorious, Odin's pride and joy, Midgard's savior, protector of all the nine realms, and I will never leave this rotten city of Earth, this polluted, nasty, unnatural piece of the mortal world that I despise so much, and my breaths will cease soon, my heart will stop beating, but I doubt there is a heart in my chest, and my green eyes, always so different from your ocean irises, will close and never open again. But it is better this way, better for me to wither and be forgotten, but promise me that you of all people will not forget me.

Promise that you will know how I was, what I was meant to be, and that you will remember me. Know that I do love you, I always have, and that you are my brother in every meaning of the word, because it is the only thought that is keeping me alive right now, the one thing that is fueling my spirit, and if you do not remember, if you shun me like the rest, I will fade into nothing, just like I always have.


	3. Unburdened (Frigga)

I bear no ill will toward you, my dearest mother. You were the only one to accept me, the only person who never doubted what I could be. I should thank you, really, but I sense that your feelings have changed about me, have morphed from the evil I've done, and for that I do not blame you.

It is only natural.

I can remember so many days spent by your side, so many moments spent listening to your soothing voice spin tales for me and for me alone. You inspired the good in me, the bright light that tried so hard to shine through. We both know how quickly that flame was put out, though, and yet you tried so hard to make me smile. I was a small boy, a child of such fragility, and you were my strong mother, my loving companion, and you helped me to grow. You aided my memory, really. You made my mind forget all of the bad times, and all of the neglect was erased when I looked into your caring face, felt your loving embrace, and heard your kind voice. But love does not last forever, at least it doesn't when it truly matters, and I hardly think you could remember me as I was, an innocent child, because of how I am now, an evil monster. Please do not try to argue, I have no need for a response, and the words that you would say would break me even more.

You might say that since you are my mother, but we both know who's telling the lies there, your love is unconditional and eternal. I might believe you, if I could forget how I am not your son.

Tell me, though, did you feel betrayed? Did you feel hurt when I turned from you, when I took my rightful place in the world as its destroyer, its murderer? Did you feel invaded? Did you think of all the times you rocked me to sleep as a babe, so warm and so unlike any of those monsters Odin told you about, and feel like I had slipped into your heart and stole your precious love? Did you feel like it wasn't right? Well, I felt nothing. I am the monster that slits your throat as you sleep, the creature that looks back at you in the mirror, the alien thing that gains your trust and rips your heart out of your chest. I find it such a laughable matter now, how you could love me so, all the while knowing what I was, what I was meant to be in the storybook of history.

I suppose it just goes to show how deep your love is capable of running. I would admit this to no other, so do not take this lightly. I used to dream of settling down, used to have fantasies of meeting a nice woman at one of those stupid little feasts, but it never happened. I would hope for children, hope to know the love that made you glow with happiness, but what was I allowed? Nothing but a father who did not love me, a brother whose light was too much, and a mother who refused to hate me.

Now, my mind is muddled and my body is quickly running out of energy. I might say that I love you, because I have always loved you so completely, dear mother, but the fact that I resent you for not letting me go makes me remember Thor, and when I remember Thor I begin to cry. It is all one giant, pointless cycle that will only end when the equation is finally balanced.

On one side, there is you and Father, both harboring a different kind of love in your hearts. On the other, Thor and I are beside one another, just as we have always been, our bond so strong and yet so weak. Odin pours his love into Thor, and you love the both of us equally. Well, this cannot be. One parent cannot love both while the other just loves one.

A child must go so that the parents can focus their pride on just one brother. I am the child that must go.

When I depart from this world, Thor will be the planet the two of you orbit around, and I will be a dead star, tossed away and forgotten. I might mind the forgotten part, if it were Thor I was talking to. Odin has always been forgetful of me so I don't care. But you, mother, it will be better if you do not recall a memory of me.

Allow your heart to mend, allow your love to fade, and then you can be at peace with my decision to leave you.

Let your soul fix itself, my beautiful would be mother, because the thought of you finally so happy and unburdened is the only thing that makes me smile.


	4. Lovely (Sigyn)

Lovely, like a dying star. Hair so white it outshines the moon and eyes so silver they glow in the night.

You, Lady Sigyn, are not real. You are a figment, a desperate imagining when my nights get too long. I was free, long ago. You walked in, glided, really, and I was the only one to ever take notice of your undeniable beauty.

You were not afraid of me, now were you? You disliked Thor and I may have liked you just for that. I believe it was your laugh, though, your magical chiming laugh. I was the only man to ever see you for something other than an object and you at least gave me the acknowledgement.

But you left so very soon, left for Vanaheim to study the very magic I had introduced you to, and I never did see you again. You were such a bright spot in my vision, such a blinding perfect thing that lit up my world, but you were gone too quickly and that abrupt vanishing act was too much for my eyes. I did not stop there, no, but should I have? Should I have left your brief memory to die within me, let it seep from my core, let the light you gave me burn out? I couldn't bring myself to do that. My love for you was foreign and I did not want it crushed. I continued as if you were still with me, as if your soft lips were pressed to mine deep in the night, and I did not feel as lonely. I imagined our children, our beautiful, dark haired children with glowing, silver eyes.

I imagined us growing old together, a life we could have had in another time, and I imagined the sound of your last breath, graceful, of course, always so graceful and divine and humble to the very end. My eyes would open, then, my mind would wake to the emptiness in my bed, and the hole in my heart opened up a little bit more every time. Slowly, I let your voice fade from my head, the feel of your hand in mine fall from my skin, and I released your beloved memory.

But now, as I lie here in my agony, with Thor so close, I could easily imagine that you are the one holding me, lovely Sigyn, and that those are your tears splashing across my face. I can feel the strands of your hair skimming over my ever paling skin, can feel the tightness of your slender fingers as they claw through my armor, clutching me for dear life. But my vision swims and I remember that it's Thor, that you're not real, that you never really were, and it makes me sad, truly, how far gone I am to have imagined your love for so long. I try to envision your young smile, your gentle, youthful tenderness fit for a mother, and I can almost feel your lips brush against my ear as your whispers flood my mind.

They lull me to sleep, encourage my eyes to close, and as I obey your command, beautiful Sigyn, I feel at peace with this death.


	5. Thieves (Avengers)

I know none of you and I truly don't care about your pathetic mortal lives.

Thor loves the lot of you and I cannot fathom why. He cherishes your love and friendship above almost anything else and the reason still evades me. I'll tell you now that you have not won. You can prance around, your short lives so weak and dwindling with each second you waste, and you can claim victory, but you all will always remember me, you sad little ragtag group of heroes. I will be the first villain you ever took down, the first trophy in your glorious hall, and you will always recall the adrenaline that surged through your veins as I fell. I will haunt you, my ghost whispering words into your ears at night, and you will never be finished with me.

Do you realize that the feeling you knew not too long ago, the euphoria that coursed within you, is the same kind that I felt when I was younger, when I was still such an innocent adolescent with my tricks that were just that, tricks?

Of course, my veins are emptying now and it hurts to even think, but you all surround Thor with such closeness, like you're one big family, and the thought disgusts me. Once, a long, long time ago, I would have smiled at my brother surrounded by mortals, but now I cannot even find it in me to frown. I used to be so… _good_ , you know. My outlook was one of hope and forgiveness and I never looked down on anyone, not even the monsters that unbeknownst to me were my ancestors. Thor, on the other hand, hated anything that wasn't of Asgardian descent. He frowned upon the Vanir, or even the Elves of the Light Realm. Nothing and no one was good unless it lived within the golden walls of Asgard.

If I were still that same understanding, accepting person, I don't suppose I would be drawing my last breath right now. I wouldn't even be here. I would be in Asgard, along with Thor, and I would stay oblivious to the lie of my life for all of eternity. But I have changed so much, have transformed and twisted until my angles are all wrong, and the image of Thor inviting in mortals, loving a mortal woman, living within this mortal hell, it is all too much for me.

You all are lowly creatures, pathetic animals that should be put out of your misery before you hurt yourself further.

Iron Man, since that's what you like to be called, you are a smart one, a genius worth recognizing, but your witty remarks can sometimes bite off more than you could ever dream of chewing. You need to stay watchful, always watchful, or that precious red headed woman of yours will be the first to go. I may be a dying enemy, but an enemy nonetheless, and I know how they think.

Clint, or Agent Barton, you were very useful to me. You helped everything along and I admired how quickly you turned on those closest to you. But in the end, you were no better than the rest of them. Deep down, somewhere buried far within me, is a soul, or what's left of it, and from that soul comes a small apology for how much I used you.

Captain, how nice of you to look so worried all the time. It gives you a bad reputation among those who wish to harm you, so I suggest you 'buck up', as the mortals might say. Ah, now I am using their language, how disgusting of me. You need not dawdle in your past, for I have done that all my life and look at where I am now.

Bruce, what a monster you are. I do not think of you very kindly, for that beating you put on me was honestly a very painful one. But before all of that, when your temper played right into my palms, was a time when I laughed at how easy it was to control you. But how I was wrong, for 'the other guy' cannot be controlled, now can he?

Natasha, such a poisonous spider, you are beautiful, I suppose, but it is not your exterior that intrigues me. It is the inner parts of your mind, the deceit you carry on your shoulders, the lengths you'll go to just to finish a mission, and how easily you can read me. We are alike in many ways, Black Widow, even though you all perceive me as a monster, and maybe I am.

But I have wiped my ledger clean, so clean that it sparkles white, and we all know how much blood trickles across yours. You are all so pathetic, the bunch of you packed together so tightly that you seem afraid to be pulled apart, and I do not look forward to watching as you all fall, as _he_ comes down from his heavenly hell and kills you all, makes you watch as your loved ones are taken from this world. You should sever your connections while you still have the chance, while there are still connections to sever.

Look at where it got Thor. He is sobbing so loudly that I can barely hear myself think and I am so shaky, so frail beneath his grief stricken gaze, that I fear I may get sucked into those blue irises of his and never return. Oh, but do not repeat this, you 'Avengers' of such high regards, or I will find a way to come back to this horrid realm and kill you all before Thanos even has a chance to think about it. I fear. I know the rush of horror that has made a home within my heart, and now it is suffocating me.

Thor fears, even though he may seem like the strongest of oaks. I know my brother. I know how deep his love is, how hard his anger is, and how soft his heart is. So, I ask of you this one thing, and it is not that complicated of a request.

Look after the oaf. Watch out for him and make sure he's doing good in this mortal world, because I do not know how he will act if I'm not there to keep him in check. Actually, I do. He will break all of the windows and smash all of your precious technology. He'll scream to the skies as rain beats down around him. He'll summon his thunder and lighting and strike a building just to watch it burn. He'll sob into the cushions of your fancy furniture and hold onto all of you like a lifeline.

He'll cry himself to sleep and punch a hole through the bed because there are tear stains on his pillow. He will need you all, you homely team of comrades, and he will need you for a while, so do not abandon him, you mortal creatures of survival, and I will die here, finally at peace with at least one thing that has happened in my life.

I will be content if he comes to terms with my demise because he is, after all, my brother. I am sworn to protect him and I will guard him from my memories, for they will only drive him mad. No one will ever understand why I did what I did, no, I don't even know if I understand the insanity within me, but at least he'll finally be free of the monkey on his back, the eyes always peering over his shoulder.

So take care of him, thieves of his heart, because I still love him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was probably my 2nd Avengers fic that I wrote AGES ago, and when I look back on it I sort of flinch a bit. xD 
> 
> Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)  
> All rights go to their respectful owners.

**Author's Note:**

> Please R&R! Feedback of any kind is always appreciated! ;)  
> All rights go to their respective owners.


End file.
